I haven't slept in days. True, my Vulcan physiology allows me to go for several days without rest, but I have gone far too long. And I'm not staying up on purpose, either. I just cannot go to sleep. I want to do something, but I am unsure as to what. Meditation does not work. I feel-I feel. That's it. I feel. I am not supposed to feel. I am not supposed to feel or have any emotions. And yet, I do. But it's not really a feeling I have. It's more of a desire, a longing. But I don' know what-or who?-for. Who. Who. At the thought of him-I feel. A little part of me wishes I was human, sometimes. They suffer so much pain from their expression of emotions, yet they seem to persevere in spite of, or perhaps because of that release.

     In direct disobeyance of Vulcan protocol I am going to let these emotions in me out for a little air.

1. Puzzlement. I am puzzled at his behavior toward me. At first, he appeared to hate me. But now, after the cancellation of my marriage, he seems-different, less harsh.

2. Anxiety.

     Enough of that. I need to do something-manual, something with my hands.

     A dress. I needed to make a dress. Something-esthetically pleasing. In truth, illogical, since I had no need, and if I did, I could just requisition one, but I had to make something. I had to create something. Green. Deep, dark green. I asked the supply facility for 7 meters of dark green material. It asked for the type of material, and I made a quick search for an acceptable material type. I decided on a 50/50 rayon/cotton blend-Earth origin. Illogical, yet somehow right.

     I spent the next two hours researching types of dresses to find one that I liked. To find one esthetically pleasing, yet modest enough for me to wear without dishonor. For some reason, I felt as though other people-another person-should see me like this, in my dress. I hadn't even decided on what kind, and already I was planning to show myself off like some- some- human. I eventually decided on a form-fitting floor length dress with a low v-neck, full skirt, and long sleeves with a slit down each one, from the top of my shoulders to my wrists. I noticed, not for the first time, but for the first time I cared, that I was very thin. I was muscled appropriately for my build and species, but as I looked at my arms, I noticed that they were much thinner than those of the human females onboard. I looked back to the computer screen, and looked at the dress models themselves, not just their dresses. It seemed that most of them were approximately the same build as me, but they had thicker arms than mine. But there were several among them whose arms were as thin or thinner than mine. I decided not to give it any more thought. Not much more, at least.

     I got the pattern and cut it out, but I couldn't concentrate. I thought for a while. Music. I needed music. Of all the illogical things, first a dress, now music. Oh, how I feared humanity! And yet, I longed for it at the same time. I wondered if it had been something I ate. Or perhaps I didn't eat. I also hadn't eaten recently. But I walked over to the computer and started looking for some music. For some reason, I went for the Earth music first. I needed something emotional for this endeavor. I started with the earliest recordings, thinking logically for once in this totally illogical activity. The music was too-logical. I marked it anyway for future reference. The music selection jumped about 200 years, to the 1960's. No. Not quite right. 1970's, no, still not right yet. 1980's. There I stopped. This was exactly what I was looking-listening?-for. I asked the computer to play a variety of music fro this decade. This music, emotional and human as it was, appealed to some illogical part of me that-loved it. I felt something I had only felt once before, a very long time ago. I was pleased. It was the oddest feeling, a feeling of utter contentment. And in that moment, I felt as though all the universe was pleased too. And with that feeling, I began to sew.

     It took me 7 days to finish it. Normally, that is, if making dresses by hand were normal for me, it would have taken me far less time, a few hours perhaps, but I spent quite a bit of time meditating to the music. And sleeping to the music. And eating to the music. The music was greatly improving my psyche and general outlook on life. I had been heard humming upon one occasion. The ensign who heard me knew the same song, and we hummed it from beginning to end. When we were finished, she smiled at me, like I had let her in on some wonderful secret. It soon became known about the ship that I was changing, for the better. The dress was beautiful, and it fit me perfectly. And not only did it fit me, I felt as though it suited me. I was trying it on the 7th night, just to make sure it was perfect, and I had almost gotten the zipper zipped, and then I couldn't. For all my supposed flexibility, I could not reach the zipper!

     Just then, I heard the door chime. Out of habit and distraction I called out, "come in." The door opened, but my back was to it, so I could not see who it was who entered.

     "Hey, T'Pol, I-wow! You- you're- "

     I half turned around. It was him. Trip was standing there, his mouth opening and closing noiselessly.

     "Wearing a dress? Listening to non-Vulcan music? Sewing?" I asked almost impishly.

     He gulped and replied smoothly-smoother than he had first started, at least-"All of the above?" He noticed my loosing battle with the zipper. "Here, let me help you with that." I remembered I wasn't wearing a support garment. He came approximately 3 centimeters from my body, based upon the increase in ambient temperature, and zipped up the back of my dress. "You know, I used to watch my dad do this for my mom when I was little. I always wondered if I would get to zip up the back of a beautiful lady's dress." I turned around, and he looked me up and down. Again, I felt irrationally pleased. "Guess today's my lucky day," he said softly, his eyes momentarily loosing their focus.

     "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry if- that I've offended you, I'd better go now-" he said quickly, and turned around. I grabbed his right shoulder, and turned him around to face me. I firmly placed my hands on his shoulders.

     They were nice shoulders, thin but firmly muscled, like a Vulcan's. I noticed that he was about 7 centimeters taller than me, but I laid odds that if necessary, I could stand on my toes and nearly match his height. But only if necessary.

     I looked up at him, looking him right in the eyes. I stood there for a moment, just looking at his eyes. What had someone once said, the eyes are the windows to the soul? His were mostly brown, but with little specks of green, blue and a ring of yellow around his pupils, making them look like little solar eclipses.

     "You haven't offended me. Not at all." I paused for half a moment, still looking at him. "You have beautiful eyes, did you know that?" I brushed an errant wisp of silky brown hair from his eyes. He remained silent for about 30 seconds. Than he blinked twice and swallowed.

     "Uh, yeah, uh, or so I've been told that. Yeah, uh, yours aren't so bad yourself. I mean, uh-" He was grasping for articulation and not reaching.

     "So, what did you come here to ask me?"

     "Ask you? Oh! Yeah, uh, T'Pol, there's a, uh, oh what's it called-"

     "Party?" I supplied. It was apparently Porthos's birthday; I guess someone just needed an excuse to socialize. Perhaps that's what drove me to make the dress I was wearing, in preparation for the party. But I hadn't planned on going. Perhaps I had wanted to, subconsciously. And my automatic suppression of emotion-

     Trip's words interrupted my train of thought. "Yeah! The party. I was wondering, y'know, if you weren't going with anyone else, and, if you wanted to go..." he was loosing his vocalization abilities. I knew what he wanted to say, but I needed to hear him say it. Yet another point for illogicity.

     "Yes?"

     "Ok, what I'm trying to say is," he paused for a moment, with his eyes closed and his mouth open, looking very much like a dead fish. I removed my hands from his shoulders and crossed them on my chest. He opened his eyes and looked at me.

     "Yes?"

     "Do you want- I mean, would you honor me by letting me escort you to the party tonight? I mean, if you want to go, I mean, I told Jon this was a bad idea-no offense- but-" I put my hand over his mouth. He looked at me, so surprised, his eyes looked like they were going to pop right out of his head, though I knew it was impossible.

     "Yes, I will accompany you. Is this attire suitable?" He nodded, still unable to speak. I removed my hand and walked toward the closet.

     "W-wha-" he started.

     "Shoes," I replied.

     "Ah."

     I replicated a pair of dark green sock-like slip-on shoes with flexible soles. I put them on, and noticed Trip looking at me, still speechless. In a sudden fit of uncontrollable whimsy, I twirled around, letting my skirt flare about me. For the second time tonight, I was pleased. Both with myself, for once, and with him. Completely illogical, but completely wonderful.

     "You like?" I asked, truly impish.

     "I like. Shall we?" He held out his arm. I walked across the room and put my hand on it. Thin but muscled, just like his shoulders. And like mine. He looked at me, and smiled. We walked to the mess hall, the smile still on his face. I started humming in my mind.

     Not bad at all. For a human.